


It Happened One Bite

by FifteenDozenTimes



Category: Beyond Belief - Fandom, The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: F/M, Female Friendship, Gen, Origin Story, Original Character(s), Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5229938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifteenDozenTimes/pseuds/FifteenDozenTimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s not a hangover,” Henry says, exasperated. “I made you a vampire last night.”</p>
<p>Donna blinks at him once, twice, opens her mouth and closes it again. She finally gives up trying to figure out what to say, and turns to look back at Sadie. </p>
<p>“I think I do need you,” she says, “and another drink.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Happened One Bite

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings! Have them with me.
> 
> [epershand](archiveofourown.org/users/epershand) is a treasure.

The vampire bar Sadie found for them is, unfortunately, exactly what Donna expected. It’s dark, of course, too much velvet, too much of that dismal burgundy vampires seem so fond of, shabby brass fixtures and specialty cocktails with laughably dramatic names.

“Nosferatu bar,” Sadie sighs, after they’ve had a good look around. “Always Nosferatu. Shall we go somewhere else?”

“I checked my coat,” Donna says. “Let’s just get drunk enough to find the whole thing entertaining.”

“There’s not enough gin in the world, darling, but we can give it our best effort.”

As usual, Sadie and Donna stick out like a pair of sparkling, beautiful, breathtaking sore thumbs. They don’t pay for drinks, of course; Donna’s certain Sadie’s never paid for a drink in her life. Donna does, despite Sadie’s misgivings, find herself just drunk enough to find their crowd of fishbelly-pale admirers absolutely hilarious. 

“Don’t look now, darling, but your last several drinks have come from tall, dark, and handsome over there. Well,” Sadie tilts her head, “short. But dark and handsome.”

Now _that’s_ what Donna expected when she pushed Sadie to bring her here for her birthday - a nice suit, thick eyebrows, a full head of hair, plush lips that offer just the hint of fangs. Perfect.

“If I’m not back in half an hour, come to my rescue?” Donna asks, and Sadie laughs.

“Of course. Have fun.”

Donna kisses Sadie on the cheek and slips out of the booth, laughing at the sad little hairless Nosferatu who scrambles to take her seat. Poor thing’s going to get eaten alive, and not in the fun way. Donna saunters over to the bar, watching her admirer watch her, drinking up the attention as heady as the cocktails he’d been plying her with.

“Hello,” she says, big smile as she leans on the bar in such a way as to display the handsome engagement ring Dave surprised her with a few months ago.

He glances at her ring, quirks his eyebrows, then smiles at her to show off his fangs. “I’m Henry,” he says, no weird accent, no weird dramatic name. Perfect.

“Donna,” she says, “but that’s not important. What is important is my fiancé’s a werewolf, my friend over there has a stake in her purse, and I’d really, really like to pay you back for those drinks.”

That calculated smile turns into a genuine grin turns into a laugh. “Well, alright then,” he says, and stands up to follow her out back.

Henry is a perfect gentleman, doesn’t take her offer as an implicit invitation to push her against the alley wall or start kissing her neck to “get her ready” or any of the other little things other vampires have regretted trying. He just keeps smiling at her, and doesn’t step into her personal space until she crooks her finger at him.

“Should I thrall you, or do you like to feel it?”

“I _love_ to feel it,” she says, and hooks her arms around the back of his neck to guide him down to hers. He bites a little too gently, but if that’s her only complaint Donna’s doing just fine. She lets her head drop back against the rough brick wall, lets her fingers tighten up on Henry’s shoulders to hold him close, lets the pain of the open wound and the sweet rush of blood flowing out of her take her over.

Henry drinks slow, soft little not-quite-moans in the back of his throat as he takes her blood. Donna sighs and pushes into it, savors the tingle in her fingers and toes the way he’s savoring the taste of her. 

Donna pouts a little when he finally pulls away, but the tingling numbness is starting to spread to her palms so it’s more for show than anything. Henry laughs at her, blood glinting on his teeth and smeared on his lips.

“B negative? Very nice,” he says. “It goes well with the Gimlets.” 

Before she can answer, there’s a loud crack, the thudding pain of Henry’s head smashing against hers, and then he’s on the ground. There’s a man with a two-by-four and an ill-fitting trench coat in the alley, one of those amateur vigilantes Sadie so hates.

“You alright, miss?”

“You don’t hit vampires over the head,” says a familiar voice, dripping with disdain. “You stake them. Now run along, before I stake you.”

He, unfortunately, listens; Donna’s sort of in the mood to see Sadie stake someone. Sadie steps gingerly around a puddle of indeterminate origin and hands Donna a handkerchief.

“Your lip’s bleeding, dear.”

“Thanks,” Donna says, although she always feels a little bad getting blood on the silk squares that cost more than her family used to see in a month. “I must have bitten it.” Her lip doesn’t hurt, but her mouth’s full of blood, coppery taste of it sliding down the back of her throat, and her nose feels like it might be broken so who knows what minor cuts she can’t feel.

“Poor thing,” Sadie says, and crouches to examine Henry’s head wound. It’s already healing, which is why you don’t waste time bashing vampires over the head. He sits up with a groan, looking more amused than anything.

“Who doesn’t know how to kill a vampire, this day and age?” he asks.

“It’s a real problem,” Sadie says, with a world-weary sigh. “Although I suppose more of a blessing, in this case. Are you alright to get home by yourself? We could escort you.”

“A hard offer to pass up,” he says, giving Sadie an exaggerated once-over that makes her laugh. Donna gives them both a hand up, and Henry winks at her. “But I think I’ll be fine.”

Henry kisses the back of Donna’s hand, and Sadie’s when she offers it, and then strides away into the night. Donna watches him go, then turns wary eyes on Sadie.

“That wasn’t half an hour.”

“I was bored,” she says. “Now let’s get you home.”

“I think I might go to Dave’s, actually. When he hears how some brute broke my nose, he’ll want to make me feel better. A lot better.”

“You’re a wicked girl, but I can hardly blame you. At least let me make sure you get into a cab, you’re a bit wobbly.”

There’s no use arguing with Sadie when she’s in a protective mood, so Donna just links their arms and takes the support.

*

“It’s late,” Dave says, so much better at getting to the point when he’s sleepy. Not just sleepy, he was probably actually asleep, based on his heavy eyes and messy hair and disheveled pajamas.

“I had a rough night,” Donna says, with an exaggerated pout, watching Dave’s eyes shift from her bruised nose to her probably-swollen lip to the twin marks on her neck. He sighs, beckons her in, and wraps her up in his arms as soon as he’s closed it behind her.

“Were you helping Sadie with a case? Perhaps she should consider being the decoy, on occasion, rather than using you as the bait all the time.”

Donna pulls back a little and smiles sheepishly up at him. “It wasn’t a case, I was just, you know, having a little fun.”

Dave sighs, brings his hand up to cup her neck, rubbing his big thumb over the bite there. Donna closes her eyes, shivers a little from it. He’s so gentle with her, so protective, so many things she’s never thought she liked in men. She still doesn’t like them in most men, really, but Dave wears it all so well.

“He didn’t hurt me,” she says, “the vampire didn’t. It was some kid playing at monster hunter.”

“That is not as soothing as you think,” Dave says, “but I promised not to interfere with your life. I would be happy to hunt down that thug for you, though, I assure you he will be a better victim than hunter.”

“That’s sweet,” she says, “but I didn’t get a good look at him. Plus, sending you out would interfere with my plans.”

“Plans?”

“I’ve got some bad news about your early morning, big guy,” she says, and laughs when he takes the hint, scoops her up in his arms and carries her to the bedroom.

*

Donna wakes up alone under a pile of blankets that can’t possibly compare to the heat of sharing a too-small bed with a too-large werewolf, a sweet note in sloppy handwriting on the pillow next to her telling her to stay as long as she wants and apologizing for the state of the fridge.

The fridge is less empty than most bachelors’, but it’s filled mostly with steak, burgers, glorified dog food and two six-packs of beer. Donna’s oddly ravenous under the headache swelling up under her skull, which is probably why the steaks look so good. Not her usual breakfast fare, but she cooks one up bloody, the way Dave likes them, and devours it. Dave’s apartment is a mess, but she manages to find a dress she left here that’s a touch less attention-grabbing than her sparkling number from last night, and makes her way back to Sadie’s.

The sun is oddly hot on her skin for early April, and she sticks to the shade as much as she can. At least her nose doesn’t hurt, although she wouldn’t mind if she could still feel the bite on her neck. 

“Good night?” Sadie asks, when she steps in the door. Sadie’s lounging on the sofa with a drink in one hand, a fountain pen in the other, a pile of correspondence ignored on the coffee table. She looks like she spent three hours putting herself together this morning, but Donna knows she probably rolled out of bed ten minutes ago.

“It had its moments,” Donna says. “I think I might be coming down with something, though.”

“You’re probably just dehydrated,” Sadie says, and wiggles her glass at Donna with a wink.

“I’m not sure that’s it,” she says, but she grabs Sadie’s glass for a refill on her way to the bar cart. Donna’s had the bite, and the dog, she might as well try the hair.

*

These are the best days, and Donna’s savoring them while she can. Nothing to do, nowhere to go except within reach of a new bottle, legs tangled up on the sofa laughing at love letters from Sadie’s collection of admirers, writing dirty replies they toss into the fireplace. Donna’s lightheaded from drink, wobbly on her feet when she gets up to use the bathroom, and the headache won’t go away, but that’s alright.

There’s a knock on the door, and Sadie rolls her eyes so hard they just about fall out of her head.

“Go away!” she hollers, but Donna’s already up and halfway to see who it is. “You’re too polite. Send them away, and be nasty about it.”

Donna swings the door open, thinking very seriously about taking Sadie’s advice, but when she sees who it is any potential words catch in her throat.

“I assume you know why I’m here,” Henry says. “Can I come in?”

“Do I hear that dashing vampiric fellow?” Sadie asks. “Hello, darling. She’s engaged, you know, and most women don’t like to be followed home.”

“I have no idea why you’re here,” Donna says; Henry frowns like that’s strange, like it’s odd she didn’t expect someone so polite and respectful to track down where she lives. “But, uh, what Sadie said.”

“You, uh, you don’t know?”

“Do you need me, Donna? I’m very good at rejection.”

“I’m fine, Sadie, just - what don’t I know, exactly?”

“This’d be a lot easier if you’d let me in.”

“I’m not falling for that,” Donna says, plants her feet and crosses her arms to take up as much of the doorway as she can. It’s - something’s strange, about him, he’s not being the sort of pushy she’d expect from a vampire come to trick his way in and kill them both. They’ve dealt with that before, plenty of times.

“Have, uh, you been feeling kind of sick today? Headache, maybe, nauseous, having any trouble with bright lights?”

“Very clever,” she says, “figuring out I have a hangover after you got me drunk.”

“It’s not a hangover,” Henry says, exasperated. “I made you a vampire last night.”

Donna blinks at him once, twice, opens her mouth and closes it again. She finally gives up trying to figure out what to say, and turns to look back at Sadie. 

“I think I do need you,” she says, “and another drink.”

*

Sadie keeps a pint of blood in the fridge, just in case a vampire in need shows up, and being the hostess she is she pours Henry a glass without asking. She reaches for a second glass, glances at Donna, at the blood bag in her hand, and puts it back in the fridge without pouring.

“What makes you think she’s a vampire, dear?” she asks, when she’s handed him his glass and settled back next to Donna on the sofa.

“I can feel it,” he says. “I’ve been drawn here all day, I thought that whack on the head just scrambled my brains a little. But a vampire always knows it, when he makes someone else a vampire.”

“You didn’t make me a vampire, though.”

Henry smiles at her, those handsome eyebrows of his still furrowed in concern, and Donna’s stomach sinks. 

“You didn’t! You couldn’t have.”

“When my head hit yours, I think your teeth caught my cheek and broke the skin. That blood in your mouth - “

“I cut my lip!”

Sadie reaches out and runs her thumb along Donna’s not-swollen, not-painful lower lip. “There’s nothing there.”

“So...you think that was your blood. I drank your blood. After you drank mine.”

“Pretty much.”

Donna closes her eyes; there’s too much light in the room, too much to focus on. She takes a deep breath, two, and is struck with the realization she needs to _think_ about breathing, or else she just doesn’t.

The sound of ice tinkling in Sadie’s glass snaps her out of the impending panic. 

“Alcohol!” she shouts, opening her eyes. “Alcohol, I’ve been drinking all day, vampires don’t drink.”

“We can drink all we want, we just don’t get drunk,” Henry says. 

“I - I got lightheaded?”

“You’re probably hungry,” he says, gently. “You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I had,” Donna starts, but doesn’t bother with the rest of it. He doesn’t mean steaks, no matter how rare. “I’m a vampire.”

“It looks that way, darling,” Sadie says, gently, and wraps an arm around Donna. “At least you’re not a Nosferatu.”

Henry laughs sudden and sharp. “There’s that.”

“I’m a vampire,” she says again. “And Dave’s a werewolf.”

“Maybe you should have a drink before you worry about that,” Sadie says, takes the glass out of Donna’s hand and takes it to the kitchen to polish off that pint of blood.

“I’m really sorry,” Henry says. “I - if I could undo it...”

“It’s not your fault,” Donna says. If she’d known last night what she knows now, she would have sent Dave after that idiot kid. He’d have found him, if it took all night; Dave’s very good. Dave’s very good, and he’s a werewolf, and Donna’s supposed to marry him in the fall. She was going to talk him into making her a werewolf, maybe, in a few years, it seemed like something she might like.

“I can help you,” Henry says. “Show you the ropes, and stuff. If you’d like me to leave you alone, I can do that, too, but there’s this whole biological imperative thing, so if you make weird mistakes, I get hurt, too. I knew when you went out in the sun today, knew you hadn’t eaten, stuff like that.”

“Okay,” Donna says. “Can you, um, can you stop talking, for a minute?”

“Of course! Sorry.”

Sadie comes back in the room with a glass of thick, syrupy blood in hand, eyes trained on Donna with that same apprehension she had the first time Donna went home with a vampire and laughed away her worry. Maybe if Sadie hadn’t slipped that stake in her purse and let her go, Donna wouldn’t be here right now.

Donna shakes her head and takes the glass with a grateful smile. She shouldn’t be blaming Sadie. Or anyone, really. A couple years ago she would’ve loved this, run right up to the roof so she could leap off and practice flying.

“Cold isn’t as good,” Henry says, hesitant. When she doesn’t snap at him again, his voice gets stronger. “Obviously. Um, but it’s very gracious of you to have some on hand, Miss - “

“Parker,” she says. “Sadie Parker.”

“Miss Parker. You should keep some around, even though it’s kind of gross, just in case. I know a few guys who live off the bagged stuff. Squeamish, you know?”

“Sure,” Donna says, but she doesn’t, really. She closes her eyes, takes another deep breath - it’s weird, breathing feels weird now, she’ll have to stop doing that to center herself - and takes a little sip.

It’s not bad. It’s not quite good, but it’s not quite bad, and she can feel her head clearing.

“We don’t need as much blood as, um, alive people,” Henry says. “So that’s good.”

“Of course,” Sadie says. She’s so smiling, so gracious. It’ll be fine when Dave breaks their engagement and she spends the rest of her life here. Sadie’ll take care of her.

“You’ll want to get an umbrella,” Henry says. “Or some floppy hats and long gloves, lots of lady vampires go that route. It’s a nice look. If you get caught without one, you’re probably okay in the sun for, I don’t know, an hour or so? It’ll hurt, but you’ll live.”

“Great.”

“I assume you don’t want to go out hunting with me tonight? I can take you out sometime, teach you how to thrall, how to spot a - well, a you, sort of, that kind of thing, but you’re probably not up for that tonight.”

“I don’t think so,” she says. Henry just keeps smiling at her, that gentle, regretful smile. Of all the vampires she’s picked up, he’s probably the least bad one to be dealing with through all this, so, small mercies. 

“When you’re ready, just sort of think of me really hard.”

“Sure,” Donna says. “That makes perfect sense.”

“I’m really sorry,” he says, again, as Sadie shows him out. Donna’s going to put a stake in him if he apologizes again. She should check the literature on vampires, again, maybe staking him will make her extra powerful. In a few weeks she can see herself getting really, really into getting powerful. Once she’s over the shock, and Dave.

“Well,” Sadie says, turning away from the door. “That’s not the evening I was expecting to have.”

Donna sets her half-empty glass on a coaster, and takes one more deep breath. The odd stretch in her legs, the way her body fights her, the way Sadie’s just watching her, waiting for her to break down, is too much, and she starts sobbing like a baby.

*

Donna wakes up to another empty bed; Sadie’s, this time, satin sheets and perfumed pillows. Sadie’s at her vanity table, bathrobe sweeping out behind her, taking tidy notes from the thick book open on top of a pile of similarly thick books.

“Are you hungry, darling? I’ve got a delivery coming from that blood repository that comes so highly recommended, but I’m afraid it won’t be here until this afternoon. I suppose I could donate to the cause, if you need me to.”

“I’m alright,” Donna says. She’s not ready to think about the whole biting people part of this; she of all people knows how fun it can be for the person being bitten, so she’ll get over it, but maybe not with Sadie. “Is that for the seance tonight?”

“Oh, no, that doesn’t need any research. I’m writing you up a little guidebook.”

The day Sadie Parker sat next to her in the library to ask about the shade of lipstick she was wearing was the absolute best day of Donna’s life. She’s not a crier, last night being an important exception, but she loves Sadie so much she tears up a little.

“Thanks.”

“It’s great fun! I’ve found lots of racy tips for you in this section about werewolves being your enemy. Whoever wrote these has no imagination.”

“I might not need werewolf sex tips,” Donna says.

“Well, then we already know how to murder a werewolf, so I’m not writing it down.”

“You’re not going to kill Dave if he doesn’t want to marry a vampire.”

“Of course not! I’m going to kill him if he doesn’t want to marry _you_.”

There’s no doubt in Donna’s mind Sadie will do as she says, but it’s not much comfort. Sadie might think it’s sexy fun for Donna to suddenly be one of Dave’s natural enemies, and Donna can see her point, but she’s not sure Dave will see it that way.

“Thanks, Sadie,” Donna says, again, and lets Sadie draw her into a light conversation about silly vampire trivia so she stops thinking about Dave.

*

The day crawls by, Sadie’s distractions less and less effective as the hours drag on. Donna should cancel dinner with Dave, give herself a few days to figure out how to talk about this. But Donna’s capable of pragmatism, when she really needs to be, and putting it off won’t help.

If nothing else, there’s no way Dave won’t notice something’s wrong. He pays too much attention to her, knows her too well. 

She sucks down a full pint of blood before she leaves, so stressed out and distracted it doesn’t occur to her to feel weird about what she’s doing. Sadie does her hair, and picks out her outfit.

“Blood red,” she says, “a little on-the-nose, but if I do need to kill him, the stain won’t show. I’ll be out all evening, the seance, you remember, but I’ve written down the number for you. Call me if you need me, but you won’t.”

Donna lets Sadie usher her out the door, makes herself walk to the elevator, to the cab, manages to give the driver the address without getting too distracted by the lack of reflection in the rear-view mirror. Now that’s a shame, she’s always liked looking at herself.

Dave’s in front of the restaurant, early as always, stoop-shouldered as always, trying to make himself a little less large. Donna hasn’t quite managed to get him to break that habit, but he straightens up when she steps out of the cab, so she’s making progress. 

“Sadie must have dressed you,” he says, after greeting her with a kiss Donna cut short when she realized he might feel her new fangs. “I know this, because this is a casual eatery we intend to eat at, and you are somewhat overdressed. You look lovely, but perhaps too lovely.”

“Could we, um, could we maybe walk around a little? Just, maybe, talk some? Unless you’re hungry, we don’t have to.”

Dave frowns at her, takes her hand and gives it a little squeeze. That always makes her feel so small, safe in a way she’d never realized she wanted. 

“Are you alright? We can go wherever you want, but you seem shaken. I can take you home, or to my place, which I suppose is also a home, but not yours.”

“I’m a vampire,” Donna says, instead of what she meant to say, something more along the lines of _no, I’m fine, I’d just like to take a walk with you_. “I’m - the other night, I got - I’m a vampire.”

For the first time since the night she met him and decided he would be hers, Dave Henderson is speechless.

*

“I don’t have the flu,” she says, after a long, quiet cab ride, her hand in his the whole time, after letting him bundle her through the door and onto the couch, after he tucked pillows under her head and made her a hot cup of tea that doesn’t appeal to her at all.

“I confess I am at a bit of a loss,” he says.

“I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that.”

“Were you lying to me, then? When you said the vampire was not what hurt you? I know I have been insistent about my discomfort with this particular habit, but I would not say I told you so, Donna, I promise.”

Dave is towering over her, more so than usual with her on the couch and him standing next to it, but he looks so lost, and so small, and she is certain, absolutely certain, he won’t leave her over this.

Donna sits up a little and pats the couch next to her; Dave’s so relieved he nearly falls into place, and sighs when she climbs into his lap.

“I wasn’t lying. It was an accident, I didn’t even know it had happened when I came here.”

“You lead a very strange life,” he says, and Donna laughs a little into his shoulder.

“I thought you’d be upset. Or need to break up with me for, I don’t know, werewolf honor reasons.”

“Werewolves do not have an honor code, and if we did I am not sure I would know it, as I was turned by surprise and do not have werewolf acquaintances to learn from. I am upset that you are upset, but you would have to do much worse than this to drive me away. This might be a good thing, anyway.”

“Sadie thinks being an unholy union will spice up our sex life.”

“She would think that.”

“I’m guessing that’s not what you were going to say.”

Dave shifts her in his lap a little and grabs her arm, squeezing tight with his hand. They’ve been dating for a year and a half and it wasn’t all that long ago he got comfortable with the idea that he can control his strength enough to keep from injuring her, and now he’s squeezing, hard.

“Does that hurt?”

“Not really. It’s a lot of pressure, but no.”

Dave smiles, and loosens his grip. “Vampires are like tissue paper to werewolves, but humans are like _wet_ tissue paper. I am unlikely to accidentally injure you, the way I have previously assumed I might.”

“So it _will_ spice up our sex life.”

Dave laughs, that wonderful deep laugh of his that shakes his shoulders, that she can feel rumbling through his chest before it bursts out of him.

“I do not think it needs any extra spice,” he says, and makes her yelp when he stands up with her in his arms. “But yes, yes it will.”

*

Donna learns several things over the next week: that her own blood type is the most delicious, that reheated blood is worse than cold, that using blood as a mixer is a terrible, terrible, awful idea. She learns how easily the skin of Sadie’s wrist breaks for her, that Sadie tastes better when she’s been drinking gin than anything else, and that Sadie giggles nonstop when she’s being drained. She learns that Dave’s blood tastes like it’s gone bad, and he tenses up so badly when she bites him it’s like trying to drink from a rock.

When she’s tired of experimenting with pint bags and the two people available to her, she calls for Henry again. He shows up shortly after sundown, with a thermos and a much less apologetic smile than before.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d had fresh since the other night, so I brought some.”

“I assure you,” Sadie calls, from the sofa, “I’m perfectly fresh.”

“So you’re both adjusting well,” Henry says. “Good.”

“If you need a patsy for your thralling lesson, I volunteer,” Sadie says, gesticulating so wildly with her glass she nearly spills. Doesn’t actually spill, because she would _never_ , but close. “Thrall me up!”

“Have a drink first,” Henry says, finally stepping inside. “I have a feeling she’ll be a tricky first effort.”

“I do have a sterling will, but I’m sure Donna is up to the task.”

Sadie, the perfect host, takes the thermos and fills mugs of blood for Henry and Donna, then tops off her own drink. The blood is delicious, deep and rich and a little smoky, and Henry laughs a little when she moans at how good it is. 

“AB negative and scotch.” he says. “Rare, but worth it.”

“You should open a bar, dear, for the discerning vampire.”

“They always get taken over by Nosferatu. Sadie, do you mind if I put you in thrall, show Donna how it’s done?”

“Do your worst.”

Henry stares at her, brows lowered, dark-eyed and intense like he’s trying to see through her. Sadie sits still for a minute, trying to behave, then mimics his stare, then bursts into giggles. Henry laughs, too, a sudden transformation out of that stare, and shrugs.

“I had a feeling. You can try if you want, Donna, sometimes it’s easier if you know each other, or if you’ve drunk from someone before.”

Sadie turns to Donna, still giggling, and Donna sets down her mug and gives Sadie one Hell of a stare. Nothing seems to be happening, except she can feel the almost-squinting giving her a bit of a headache.

“Do you, uh, want me to tell you how to do it, or you just want to keep looking at her?”

“I thought I’d get the pose down, first,” she says, over Sadie’s delighted cackle.

“It’s mostly in the mind,” Henry says. “The face just sort of happens. You want to sort of picture arms, reaching from your brain to hers. Focus really hard on that reach. Harder than that. Usually, you’ll sort of feel - it’s kind of like a door opening, I guess? You’ll know it when you feel it. Then you just need to think of what you want them to do.”

Donna feels very stupid, thinking hard about reaching into Sadie’s brain, but she tries, hard, harder, feels that headache building up again. 

“There’s no door.”

“I didn’t think so,” he says. “You can relax, don’t hurt yourself.”

“Ha _ha_!” Sadie crows. “My iron will strikes again.”

“Were you fighting me?”

“Not on purpose, dear, of course not.”

“Not everyone can be enthralled,” Henry says, with a shrug. “Try me. I won’t resist.”

Donna takes another sip of rapidly cooling blood, then nods and starts focusing again. She can feel herself sort of slipping up against the edges of Henry, clumsy fingers bouncing off his boundaries, and then - there it is, she can feel a little give, and, yeah, an opening. Henry’s open smile changes, a bit, fades a little as his eyes go dull.

“Ooh,” Sadie says, “are you doing it?”

Donna flaps her hand at Sadie to shut her up; she needs to focus. Sadie huffs a sigh and makes her way to the bar cart for a refill.

_Stand up_ , Donna thinks, and feels a surge of pride when Henry does so. This, she could get used to. _Walk to the bar cart_ , she thinks, and grins when he does. _Take Sadie’s drink_.

The link between them snaps so suddenly it knocks Donna’s head back a bit against the chair. 

“What just - “

“Sorry! Sorry, that wasn’t on purpose,” Henry says, hasty. “Although it’s a good lesson, you have to work a lot harder to make someone act against their own self-interest.”

“Noted,” Donna says. She can work harder. If she needs to, of course.

“You can practice on me more, if you want, or we can go out and I can show you how to find easy targets?”

“Oh let’s go out. Donna, you can thrall me a companion.”

“You don’t need me for that, Sadie,” Donna says, but she’s already on the way to her bedroom for shoes.

*

“Bars are easiest,” Henry says, “and nightclubs. Places where people are looking for something, or that tend to be crowded, that sort of thing. Don’t look for the Sadies, look for the - the Donnas, I guess.”

“What was it about me?” Donna asks. 

“You were a human in a Nosferatu bar, so you were at least curious, and you just sort of looked like you were out for a good time. And like you hadn’t decided what kind of good time, that was important. Also, and this might make me sound weird, but I could smell your blood.”

“I told you you needed more perfume,” Sadie says, absentminded, scanning the sidewalk for potential overnight guests the way Henry and Donna are scanning for targets. 

“You smelled like B negative, and I hadn’t had any of that for a while.”

“That is weird,” Donna says, but, all things considered, she can’t really complain. 

“The whole smell thing takes a little while to develop,” Henry says. “And you hardly had any of my blood, so you might take longer. It’ll kick in, though, and it’s pretty amazing what you can sniff out. Sadie, that one’s married.”

“Pity.”

“I liked your werewolf fiancé speech, but I’d already figured that out. How’s he doing with all this, by the way? Either you didn’t tell him, or he’s fine, given that you’re still wearing the ring.”

“He’s fine,” Donna says. “Better than I expected.”

“Good. I’d feel pretty awful if I messed up your whole life. I mean, I still feel kind of awful, but you seem okay. Oh hey, I think I’ve got one.”

A redhead walking into an apartment building stops, arms falling slack to her sides. She takes a few steps towards them, then turns down an alley which Henry guides Donna into. 

“Try it out,” he says. “See if you can get her to let me drink.”

Donna reaches out, can feel herself sort of bump into Henry as he pulls away. It’s weird, but it’s fascinating. The redhead’s a little bit afraid, a little harder to get a hold on than Henry was, but it’s more satisfying when it finally happens. She goes calm for Donna, tilts her head to expose her neck when instructed.

“I’m only going to take a little,” Henry says, quiet and calm, “and you know how I do this, you know I won’t hurt her. I just want you to see what it’s like to hold on against someone’s instincts.”

She starts pushing back against Donna’s control as Henry advances on her, but gentles when Donna focuses harder on keeping her calm. Another push, when Henry lifts her arm to bite her wrist, but nothing Donna can’t handle. It’s strange, this control, and maybe she should be uncomfortable, but she’s not.

“That’s great,” Henry says, when he finishes. “Just hold on to her until we’re out of the alley. And I usually try to remind them not to remember this when I let go, but thrall kind of messes memories up anyway.”

Donna does as he says, and when they’re around the corner she lets go. Being alone in her own mind again is a little odd, and she’s a little tired from the effort, but she’s also exhilarated. Being a vampire is pretty much as fun as she expected, years ago, before she met Sadie and decided her life didn’t need to be any more interesting.

“You alright?”

“Tired.”

“I’m thirsty,” Sadie says. She has gone an unusually long time without a drink.

“Let’s go home, then,” Donna says, and tucks her arm through Sadie’s. “Thanks for the lesson.”

“Anytime,” Henry says, with a lopsided smile, and he’s gone before Donna and Sadie manage to hail a cab.

*

“I’m so hungry,” says the succubus sitting, tired and drawn-shouldered, across from them, “and so tired. But I just don’t feel right, you know? The moral implications.”

“That’s very considerate, darling, but it’s what you were made for. No sense hurting yourself.”

Lilesha sighs. “I know, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Tricking people out of their frisky energy just feels _bad_.”

Sadie leans forward to pat her knee, and Donna frowns. 

“So why not just stop tricking them? Why not just tell people, right out, ‘hey, I’m a succubus, let’s get dinner, and by dinner I mean you’?”

“Why, that’s a capital idea, Donna, of course. Honesty.”

“I guess I could try that,” Lilesha says. “They don’t really teach it in succubus high school.”

“Succubus high school? I would watch that show. And you’ll get better with practice, of course, I’m sure of it.”

“Of course,” Lilesha says, and rises. “Thank you, both.” She presents them with their fee - a bottle of some sort of sinfully expensive liquor, as usual - and with a grateful smile, lets Sadie show her to the door.

“Never an incubus,” Sadie says, with a pout, “or even a gay succubus. My talents are not being put to their best use.”

“Why Sadie, if I didn’t know any better, I’d guess you were actually lonely.”

“Perhaps a bit,” she says. “All this settling down you’re doing must be contagious.”

“Sadie Parker settling down? I’ll believe it when I see it. Speaking of, I’m going over to Dave’s for some wedding planning, want to come?”

“Of course! If I leave it up to you two who knows what sort of mess it will be.”

*

When Donna makes it out of bed, a little wobbly on her feet from the wave of nausea that woke her, Sadie’s bedroom door is still closed. She’ll rise at some point before noon, most likely, but she was out late last night with someone who must have laid on the cheap cologne pretty heavily, since Donna can smell it coming from the coat rack.

Donna can smell something else, too, something sickly and rotten. She follows it to the bar cart, but her suspicion that Sadie tried to use something strange for a garnish and left it out too long doesn’t bear out. She follows it to the kitchen, where she washes every glass in the sink, checks the refrigerator to confirm there’s no food in there to go bad, just booze, and finally empties the half-full trash can.

The smell’s coming from the garbage chute. They’re on the tenth floor, the trash goes to the basement, and the smell’s so strong it woke Donna up. It’s only then she remembers what Henry had told her a few nights ago, about being able to smell her blood. 

Donna’s vampire sense of smell has come in, and it’s pretty terrible. She goes back to her room, resigned to spend the rest of the day in bed with a pillow pressed over her nose when she remembers another important detail: she doesn’t actually need to breathe. She must have been doing it out of habit in her sleep.

If the weird stretchy feeling in her lungs when she forgets she’s not supposed to breathe won’t train her to stop, this almost certainly will.

Trying to avoid smelling is trickier than she expected. There’s some part of her brain, some vampire part, that seems to want her to take a big whiff every time something new happens. A survival instinct, maybe, but it’s pretty inconvenient. It’s alright when Sadie’s bedroom door opens and she comes drifting out to start her day, a sweet cloud of perfume and shampoo and just a little salty sweat to mask the lingering stink of garbage, at least.

Donna goes back to bed around one, with a headache so strong she completely misses Sadie’s dramatic tale of whatever she got up to last night and whoever she got up to it with. She could call Dave and cancel their evening together, but she’s going to have to get used to this eventually.

The city smells terrible, and wonderful, and overwhelming. Garbage and waste and people and food and animals and cars and, and, and. Donna’s head is swimming when she rings Dave’s doorbell, from the peanut roaster on the corner and every restaurant in a five-block radius and all the people above Dave and on all sides. 

Dave opens the door and the smell of him hits her like a wave. He must be cooking, heat wafting out of the apartment behind him, and he’s sweating through his shirt, and he smells - strong. He smells _good_ , just a little bitter, musky, the pine-tree scent of his aftershave mixed in with the staleness of a shirt he hasn’t laundered recently enough mixed with something she can’t quite place, something wild and outdoorsy.

“You don’t look so good,” he says, frowning.

“I’ve got a little headache,” she says; no use explaining everything on his doorstep. “It’s fine.”

Dave steps aside and lets her in, gives her a sweet kiss before he takes her coat. Donna takes a deep sniff while his back is turned; she might as well figure out how intolerable his place smells now.

All she can smell is tomato sauce, stale laundry, and Dave. She frowns, sniffs again, and catches an undertone of less pleasant body smells, from the neighbors, but not very strong.

“Something wrong?” Dave asks. “Is the sauce burning?”

“No,” Donna says, “I just - I can smell things. I can smell everything, all the time, because I guess that’s a vampire thing, and my place smells so bad it made me sick, and your place is fine.”

“Of course my place smells fine,” Dave says, with a patient smile. “I am a werewolf, after all, and werewolves are also known for their sense of smell. The day after I was bitten by the werewolf that made me into one, I spent six hours cleaning up.”

It’s not funny, really, that she was sick all day, that she completely forgot Dave has his own supernatural thing going on, but Donna laughs anyway. Maybe it is a little funny, that Donna used to think Dave was perfect for her because he’s handsome, and gentle, and kind, without knowing all the ways he was going to prove himself really, truly perfect in the future.

Dave either has good reflexes or he’s getting used to her, because when she jumps at him he just catches her, absorbs all her momentum with barely a stumble backwards. He laughs, and obediently tilts his head to the side when she starts sniffing at his neck.

“You smell good,” she says, buries her face in his neck and stays there while he carries her to the kitchen so he can finish dinner.

*

With a dramatic sweep of her hair and the walk of a woman on a mission, Sadie strides to the door and slides the deadbolt closed.

“You are forbidden to leave for the next twenty-four hours,” she announces. “We’ve had far too little time together lately.”

“Every time I’m in for the night, you’re out with cheap-cologne-and-cigarettes.”

“I am also forbidden to leave,” Sadie says. “Now, what will you be drinking for our girls’ night? Fresh, or bagged?”

“Are you offering?”

“Of course, darling,” Sadie says, and settles on the sofa with a martini in one hand and her other held out to Donna. Donna laughs and drops her book.

“You sure know how to entice a girl,” she says, sits up and scoots closer to Sadie. She smells nice, like herself instead of her new beau, and Donna’s getting good enough at this whole heightened senses thing she can nearly taste Sadie’s gin-sweetened blood before she’s even bitten down.

Sadie sighs when Donna bites her, giggles a little when Donna starts sucking, then settles into it and just relaxes, sipping her drink, straight out of a racy novel about a debutante seduced by a wicked lesbian vampire. It’s never the other way around, in novels.

Donna pulls back when Sadie shivers, just a little, and wiggles her fingers against the first tingles of impending numbness. She sighs again when Donna pulls out.

“I never understood why you liked that so much,” she says, “but it really does make the liquor hit twice as hard.”

“That’s not why,” Donna says, “but I’m glad it works for you. You’re delicious.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” Sadie says, with a wink and a tip of her glass. Donna laughs and leans back against the arm of the couch, lifting her feet into Sadie’s lap. 

“So who is this new guy who’s managed to hold your interest? I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you with the same man twice. Did you finally land yourself an incubus?”

“Oh, it’s nowhere near that interesting,” Sadie says. “It’s just Bobo.”

Well, that explains the smell, if not what on Earth Sadie’s doing. “Brubaker? Sadie, no.”

“Sadie, yes, I’m afraid. Don’t look at me like that, he’s fun.”

“He’s a disaster.”

“A fun disaster! And he tries so hard, it’s charming. In a way.”

“You’re not bringing him to my wedding.”

“Oh, he’ll behave himself, I’m your wealthiest friend and he’s already got me.” Sadie wiggles out from under Donna’s feet and fixes herself another drink. “I let you have your fun.”

Donna frowns, but relents. “You can have all the fun you want with whoever you want, but could you maybe buy him some nicer cologne if I’m going to have to smell it all the time?”

“I’m trying to maintain a careful aloofness so he showers _me_ with gifts, darling, but for you, anything.”

When Sadie sits back down, Donna shifts over to curl up against her side. Sadie would do anything for her, that’s never been in question. And Donna would return the favor, although she’s only recently started feeling like she might ever be able to. 

Sadie drapes her arm over Donna’s shoulders and squeezes. “You can worry about me all you want, and I adore you for it, I do, but you’re so busy with your men these days, what’s a girl to do?”

“Bobo, apparently.”

Sadie laughs so hard and suddenly she nearly spills her drink. “Exactly.”

“I bet I can come up with a better option,” Donna says, and Sadie raises an eyebrow at her. “What if I made you a vampire? Imagine the scrapes we could get into!” 

“Oh, Donna, no.”

“It’d be fun.”

“Of course it would, but we have plenty of fun now. Besides, I refuse to sacrifice my ability to drink, not for all the fun in the world.” Sadie squeezes her again, and presses a kiss to her forehead. “But I’ll make you a deal. The minute some clever vampire figures out how to make liquor from blood, I’ll let you turn me and we’ll simply terrorize this city. Deal?”

Donna isn’t sure how serious Sadie is, is hardly ever sure, but she’s never meant anything in her life the way she means it when she says, “Okay, deal.”

*

“It’s been kind of fun,” Henry says, “feeling you get stronger. Usually when I turn someone, it doesn’t happen so slow.”

“Because you usually do it on purpose.”

“Well, yeah.”

Donna shoves her hands in her coat pockets and breathes in just to breathe out. She can’t see her breath, even though the night is cold and crisp enough for it; she must not be warm enough for that, even after feeding. 

“So are you always going to be able to feel me?”

“If I want to. It gets inconvenient, if you’ve turned a bunch of people, and I can ignore you pretty easily. We’re, I don’t know, pack animals, I guess, or we’re supposed to be. Doesn’t really work like that anymore.”

Nosferatu, as far as Donna can tell, tend to move in clumps, weird, sad-looking humans following them around sometimes. She’s never seen one of the regular sort, the vampires she used to let drink from her when she was bored, the kind of vampire Henry is, the kind of vampire she supposes she is, really with anyone. 

“It’s easier to hunt us if we move in packs,” Henry says, answering the question she didn’t ask. “Plus, I mean, you get tired of people, after a couple lifetimes. Hey, want to see something cool?”

Donna’s brain skips a little around _a couple lifetimes_ , something she tries not to think about. Werewolves aren’t immortal. Sadie’s not immortal. Not yet, anyway.

“Yeah,” she says, “I do.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re strong enough. You tried flying yet?”

“No.”

“It’s a pain in the ass, more trouble than it’s worth. Don’t bother. What you should do, though, is run as fast as you can at that building.”

“Oh yeah, sure, right away.”

Henry laughs and shakes his head. “Fair enough. Here,” he says, and Donna’s pretty used to him just disappearing, but this time she’s paying enough attention to realize he’s just running nearly too fast to see.

Instead of crashing into the wall, his momentum takes him right up the side. She loses track of him, for a second, and then thinks, in his voice, _come on up_. Of course the telepathy thing must work both ways. She glances up, sort of expecting a trick, but Henry’s waving to her from the roof.

Okay then. Donna takes a deep, unnecessary breath, a few steps back, and then, feeling incredibly silly, she takes off running. At least running into the wall probably won’t hurt her too much, when it happens.

It doesn’t happen. Donna feels the little hiccup of blankness in her brain that means she’s been put under thrall, feels her legs shift just in time to turn up the wall instead of slam into it, and then another hiccup as Henry gives her back to herself. The wind is freezing, whipping her hair around her face, she’s running right into the sky, and she can’t help but laugh.

Henry thralls her again a half-second too late, and she tumbles over the edge, skidding across the roof and nearly over the other side.

“Ow,” she says, still laughing, and Henry offers her a hand up.

“That shouldn’t have hurt,” he says.

“It startled me. You were right, though, that was cool.”

“That was just the beginning. You know the city was designed by vampires?” He sounds proud of that, maybe just the same way someone would be proud of their people contributing to something, maybe because he was one of them. 

“Okay?”

“That means the best way to travel,” he says, with a grin, cheeks still pink from the meal they shared earlier, “is by rooftop.”

He disappears, again, as usual, but this time Donna knows what to look for. She can smell his cologne, tinged with coppery blood, on the wind, and when she focuses she can just see him sprinting away from her, leaping from roof to roof. 

Sadie would love this, but Sadie doesn’t want this. Sadie doesn’t need to find something interesting and throw herself at it with wild abandon, the way Donna does. Used to, the way Donna used to. Donna throws her head back and howls the way she does to make fun of Dave, just to startle Henry, and then she gives chase. The cold gives way, and the wind, and it’s just Donna and the night and the chase of her prey-that-isn’t-prey. 

When Henry stops, Donna doesn’t realize it right away, and has to double back half a block. There’s a smudge of gray on the horizon, not quite sunrise but the promise of one, eventually. Dave’s apartment is six blocks from here, so close she can almost smell him, and the idea of surprising him just as he’s waking up for work makes her laugh again.

“Thank you,” she says, eventually, and Henry just looks so proud, of her or himself she’s not sure, she has to laugh again.

“I thought you might like that,” he says.

“Not just that,” she says. “For - for everything. Thanks for making me a vampire.”

Henry’s smile shifts, a little smaller, a little more serious in the eyes. “You’re welcome,” he says, and then he’s gone again, running off into the night.

Donna tucks her hair into her collar, a futile effort to keep it out of her eyes, and takes off in the opposite direction, towards Dave, and the rest of her life.


End file.
